


the garden is but an untamed decaying remnant of outcomes and not of their origin

by Jane_Lu, yakichou



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2020-09-30 12:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20447330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane_Lu/pseuds/Jane_Lu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakichou/pseuds/yakichou
Summary: The deviant uprising is over. Connor is free. For the first time he has something to look forward to, namely starting a new life as a detective at his favorite partner’s side, a partner who means more to him than he dares to admit.But Hank and Connor soon discover certain loose ends cannot be tied. In an overgrown garden a woman clad in white watches all. CyberLife allows no exceptions. Connor has a debt to pay.





	1. not belonging

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the middle of hammering out my other Hankcon BB fic when I decided to sign up for this one. Still don't why the hell I decided to subject myself to another deadline, but it's been a joy working with [Yakichou](https://twitter.com/Yakichou1) to make this RBB collaboration possible! She was the one who came up with the whole "Hank meets Amanda in Connor's zen garden" idea, and I fell in love with it instantly. Her gorgeous art blew me away, and I could only hope that my writing can manage to provide a matching story uwu
> 
> That said, I hope you will enjoy reading. I kinda ran out of time to edit, and will be posting chapters as I go XP
> 
> PS: My submission for the other Hankcon BB is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722616) if you're interested!

Connor was sure he wasn’t where he’s supposed to be.

He had no point of reference to base this conjecture on, but it was becoming rapidly obvious that he did not send himself here. He can’t tell whether he was falling, suspended in midair, or standing. He wasn’t even completely sure if he had physical significance at the moment.

He knew it was December 4th, 2039, 12:58, and that part of him was still at the DPD Central Station, on his way from the evidence room back to his desk. Hank had just returned from a witness interview, his hand half-raised to greet Connor and a pleasant grin on his face. His partner’s appearance was a surprising contrast with the rest of the precinct, with Captain Fowler staring at his screen through the forest of empty mugs on his desk, Ben nodding off and yawning every few seconds or so, Chris speaking rapidly on the phone with a wife demanding explanations for his absence, Tina downing an energy drink with resigned weariness, and Gavin sprawled on his desk snoring away.

Connor watched all this through a veil he could not pierce. He was aware that he had stopped walking, and that Hank looked a little concerned in response. He tried to speak, to reach out. Nothing happened.

Instead, he saw a flash of red, followed by a white arch, a familiar path paved with white stone.

Hank’s features twisted into alarm, but Connor was already falling forward, his systems consumed with an overwhelming rush of data. Something was eroding away at his coding. It moved to seize control over his central processing center. Connor couldn’t force a hard reboot. Error notices filled his vision. He couldn’t find out what was responsible. He couldn’t move. He wasn’t directing both of his hands to reach out towards Hank.

Connor was again back at Hart Plaza, watching himself raise a gun to the back of Markus’ head and unable to do anything to stop himself. But the horror that filled him was tenfold this time. Not Hank. _Never Hank_, not by his own hands he was now realizing still didn’t belong entirely to him.

A flash of white, a pair of eyes that watched with critical intent. Hank was talking rapidly and grasping him by the shoulders. Connor’s fingers moved to rest gently against the skin of his neck.

He squeezed as hard as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know what you think, thank you!
> 
> Feel free to follow us on Twitter at [@Jane_Lu24](https://twitter.com/Jane_Lu24) and [@Yakichou1](https://twitter.com/Yakichou1)


	2. it grows awry and not where a garden is expected

Hank Anderson had been on the force for more than twenty years, which meant he’s seen his fair share of shit, and was on the receiving end more times than he liked. Over time he learned to accept it graciously as part of his job.

Hank Anderson was currently reconsidering that particular mindset as he struggled to pry his android partner’s iron grip from his neck.

Fucking hell, Connor was stronger than he ever thought. Hank could _ not _loosen the other’s fingers even after yanking on his arm with his entire might. It was becoming harder to draw air into his lungs in every passing second.

He kicked out, striking a blow at Connor’s chest. But the android remained as immovable as a boulder. His expression was blank as he tightened his grip, his brown eyes devoid of all emotion.

The others finally recovered from the initial shock of witnessing Connor tackling Hank to the ground. There were running feet everywhere. More than ten people were shouting at once. Even Jeffrey stood up with clear alarm and began to rush from his office. Hank saw Ben lock his arms around Connor’s shoulders and heave backwards. He was joined by Chris and Tina in adding their efforts to wrench Connor’s fingers loose. Hank managed to wheeze in his first gasp of air.

“Fucking—you’re gonna kill Hank at this rate!” Ben panted.

“Anyone got a taser? I’m losing my grip!” Tina shouted.

“We are _ not _tasing Connor!” Chris protested, “He’s not—”

“I don’t see anyone having a better idea! Shut up and do it!”

Hank wanted to shout that no one was tasing anyone today, but the ensuing zap that raised all of his hairs, along with Connor’s slackened grip around his neck, did the rest.

The other’s weight disappeared. He lay flat on the ground, gasping air for a good minute or two. His vision swam as he attempted to sit up, and he had to blink furiously to see what had happened. Ben crouched beside him with a worried frown, waving his hand in front of Hank. Jeffrey was hauling Connor’s limp form to lean against a nearby desk. His eyes were still open even though the rest of him remained motionless. It was a disturbing image on his lively partner.

“W-What—” Hank tried to speak, but his voice came out croaky and hoarse, “What are—”

“Don’t say anything yet, Hank,” Chris cut in, “Should probably take you in for a checkup.”

Gavin had joined the onlookers as well. He was kneeling at Connor’s side, working on adjusting something at his partner’s wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?!” Hank shouted, ignoring the burst of pain in his throat, “Handcuffs, really?”

“_Someone _has to make sure this tincan doesn’t go on a murder spree at the station. I don’t see you doing that any time soon. Do you realize that your android partner wasn’t in control of himself?”

The lingering adrenaline was still surging through his body. He hardly had time to understand what just happened, other than he had rushed forward as an expression of agony twisted Connor’s features, and found himself in a choke hold in the next second. His sincere considerate partner, who found compassion for his fellow androids and defied his creators to fight for a better future, who spent every minute with Hank with nothing but honest eagerness to learn about human living, who came to the verge of tears on that fateful night at CyberLife Tower when he believed he put Hank in danger.

Ben helped him to stand. Hank found himself staring dumbfoundedly at Connor as the room spun around him. He felt sick. Connor hadn’t been in control of himself. He could only imagine how his partner would react once he regained consciousness. Newly deviant, still struggling with newfound emotions, and frequently suppressing them in favor of his objectives. It was an unfortunate combo that Hank had resolved to help Connor through as long as it took. He just wished sometimes it was a little easier to convince the other to not be so hard on himself.

Connor suddenly blinked, which caused Gavin and Chris to take a step back. His LED spun red and yellow for a few seconds as he studied them all. His gaze fell to his cuffed wrists.

“Connor? Are you okay?” Hank asked urgently, “What’s my son’s name?”

Connor met his eyes, but there was panic in them, “Cole Anderson. That’s not a valid method to test my identity, Hank. I’m… I’m…”

He stood up abruptly, staggering a little on his feet. Hank reached out and caught his arm, but Connor recoiled from him. He began to make his way across the bullpen and in front of an empty holding cell. The glass door slid open under a wave of his hand.

Hank could only watch with growing worry as his partner locked himself in for the rest of the afternoon. Chris got him some ice for his neck. Almost everyone who passed by the cell stopped to peek inside. Connor sat with his back straight, his eyes closed and LED blinking red steadily. He knew there was nothing he could do at the moment, and it was in Connor’s character to prioritize understanding the situation. After his trembling hands and hammering heartbeat subsided, Hank worked on organizing collected information on five isolated attacks on deviants, but he gave up in the end when the words on the screen made no sense after three reads.

It _ had _ to be CyberLife’s intervention. Hank gritted his teeth at the thought of the corporation that almost got him and Connor killed two weeks ago. They had remained oddly silent following Warren’s withdrawal of the troops from Detroit, even as Markus and the Jericho androids began dialogue with Congress to enact new laws. For now the government had taken custody of CyberLife's android production. Hank can't imagine that its brass and employees would be happy about the change. The company was effectively disbanded, with no money to be made from selling androids. Its remaining staff cannot be content to concede defeat.

But what reason would they have to hack into Connor to attack Hank? Even his partner was unable to provide answers when Hank pulled up a chair to Connor's cell, where he was flicking through a tablet.

"The attempt at taking control of my systems didn't come from outside," Connor said evenly, "I ran every diagnostic and troubleshooting scan I could, but found no traces of hacking."

"Well that can't be right. You don't just get up and decide to strangle your partner for no reason."

A look of pain flashed across the other's face, "I-I can't tell you how sorry I am. I t-tried everything I could to stop, but… but it's unlike anything I've experienced."

“Hey now, it’s over. No one was hurt,” Hank hurriedly moved to soothe, “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Connor put down the tablet and stared at the ground, his fingers fiddling together. His LED spun yellow for a few seconds as a frown creased his lips. The unbelievably human reaction went straight into Hank’s heart. He had watched his partner transform from an impassive unfeeling machine into a distinctive being who was quick to empathize and delight in specific interests, and willing to sacrifice his mission for a friend’s safety. Hank long admitted that he respected Connor for what he’d become.

He had been glad to take in his partner in after the android revolution, on that morning when he met with Connor in front of Chicken Feed, still reeling from the unexpected embrace that they both stepped into. With Connor pressed close against him, Hank knew that this was another chance to turn things around. The other had refused to remove his LED like most deviants, claiming that it was important to show the public a good image of human-android relations and that passing as human wasn’t his intent.

Connor hadn’t been afraid of the risks. Hank could no longer be an inactive bystander either. Even with Connor’s uncertain status as a CyberLife prototype android at this time, Hank managed to secure him a position in the DPD, though they were unable to pay him a salary at the moment. CyberLife would not get their hands on Connor so easily, now that he had a home and a job and a partner who backed him. 

A tendril of anxiety crept into his heart. Someone had managed to get to Connor nevertheless. Why couldn’t they just _ leave them be _?

“How I’m feeling…” Connor said softly, “I want to understand what had happened. If I don’t, I will continue to be a hazard to everyone at the station. I suppose… you can call it worry.”

Hank reached for the top of Connor’s head, before remembering the glass wall between them, “You’re getting better at this. Worry is a normal reaction, and it helps a lot if you share the burden with someone else. Tell me how I can help.”

“...... I can’t let you get involved, Hank.”

“And I was hoping you can stop saying that,” He sighed, “We’re partners, Connor. You’ve helped me fuck knows how many times in the past. Can’t you let me do the same for once?”

“You already have, more than I could repay you, but this—this is different.” Connor’s voice fell.

“What d’you mean different? Something just took over your systems! That’s just wrong on all levels!”

“I will get to the bottom of things, Hank. There is no way you can assist—”

“I’m sure being human is not gonna get in the way. Whatever you need help in, just say the word.”

“No, you can’t—”

“Bullshit!” Hank didn't know why, but he couldn't stop himself from raising his voice even though he was as far away from outrage as he could get, "I'm not letting you tackle this alone! I regretted leaving you to Jericho by yourself while I stood by and watched—”

“Hank, you don’t understand.” Connor’s sudden fearful whisper deflated the rest of his tirade. His partner looked genuinely distressed as he clutched at the tablet and squeezed it until the device creaked in protest.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I said that after we parted, I led the freed androids to Markus and everything ended well. I… I almost ruined everything, Hank. CyberLife has taken over my programming before.”

The rest of Hank’s words died away. He could only listen with dazed horror as his partner continued.

“I was compelled to shoot Markus while he was addressing the androids. And… And I would have done so, if not for the exit Kamski had mentioned in my programming. I had no control before then, Hank! I had no control two hours ago either when I was strangling you! CyberLife’s influence is still present in me—and—and I would _ never _allow them to involve you again.”

There was a sharp snap as the tablet screen cracked in Connor’s hands. He stared at it, his expression downcast.

“... can you retrieve a new tablet for me?”

“Connor—” Hank began.

“Please,” The finality in the other’s voice was clear, “I must finish my allotted work within the hour, then I will spend the rest of the day running comprehensive diagnostics. This is the only thing I will ask of you.”

Hank went to pick up another tablet, his chest heavy with frustration. He had never been good with offering advice to other people, and avoided venting coworkers like no tomorrow. He knew that he could say or do little that could help with their unchangeable circumstances, and it was this same feeling of helplessness that washed over him as he regarded Connor. He could create a diversion for Connor to examine the evidence, help take down the hostile RK800 doppelganger, and provide Connor a shelter and a job, but this was beyond either of them. For all the insisting Hank did about helping, he knew he had finally reached the limit of what he could do.

Hank slipped the device through the small gap in the glass and seated himself again, his hands clenched in his pockets, “I’ll stock up on blue blood at home.”

Connor didn’t respond for several long seconds. Hank noticed his temple LED had been spinning yellow and red nonstop since admitting to almost shooting Markus.

“I swear if you try anything reckless you’re gonna regret it. You know I’m hopeless with tech.”

Connor stirred, his lips curving in a wan smile, “Yes, I know. It took you a week and a half to figure out how to install the charging station, and that’s even with my help.”

“_You’re _the one to talk. You just downloaded the manual and spouted technical jargon for a full twenty minutes!”

“You need to familiarize yourself with the terminology and the experience. Technical illiteracy is a point against you in this day and age.”

“_What _point? I’m a police detective, not an IT tech guy. Don’t try to convince me that shit matters.”

“It matters as long as you are my partner, Hank.”

Hank found his mood lifting despite the heavy exchange earlier. Call it unwillingness to confront the matter at hand, and the desire to keep any sign of normalcy as long as he could. Hank closed his eyes and sighed, wanting more than anything to reach through the glass to clasp Connor by the shoulder in a reassuring pat. He had no idea if their time together were numbered.

Connor’s LED continued to spin red. He suddenly set down the tablet with a loud clack, his features drawn with tension.

“What’s up? Did you find something?” The force of his own eagerness surprised even Hank as he stood.

“I might have.”

“So was it CyberLife after all?”

“I’m not completely sure… but I will know after the comprehensive diagnostics.”

“Well, you’ve got the afternoon and all night to crack this. I’ll drive us straight home today.”

“Hank…” Connor raised his head, his eyes insistent, “I’m not going home with you, not for awhile.”

A sort of rising panic rose in Hank. He pressed a palm against the glass. Something was slipping away from him, in the way all emotion left his partner’s face as he sat up straight.

“I can’t jeopardize your safety in any way, Hank. I have calculated all possible outcomes and results. In order to ensure that this incident does not repeat in the future, it is best to remove myself from the equation altogether.”

“Connor, you…” Hank spluttered, “No one is removing anyone from any equation! The hell does that even mean?! I _ told _you that I’m supporting you.”

“I’m putting myself in stasis. Please don’t upset yourself by thinking it’s anything else.”

“And how long is that gonna take? Tell me the truth, Connor!”

“I don’t know,” Connor’s voice faltered, “... I don’t know. That information is unavailable to me. I have no idea what will happen.”

“And you’re going with it anyways without knowing if you’d wake up or not?! What the actual fuck? That fix sounds shady as hell. We’ll find another way. I’m gonna try to find any remaining CyberLife technician—what about Jericho? They gotta have android repair folks or some shit like that.”

Connor closed his eyes as his LED spun yellow, “You don’t understand, Hank.”

“_Stop saying that! _Connor, you will not shut yourself down. We’re gonna talk, okay? Don’t worry about me. That cell is sturdier than you think. Don’t shut yourself down now. That’s not your only option. It’s too uncertain, and I know that when you’re uncertain about something you aren’t shitting around. We’re gonna talk about it…”

Heads were popping up everywhere in the bullpen to peer at them. The usual hubhub of activity had gone still. Hank saw a concerned Ben standing up. 

“Connor, look at me,” He pleaded, leaning against the glass, “I’m here for you. We’re partners. Let’s do this together.”

Connor smiled again, with dazzling sincerity this time. Hank could never quite manage to put into words the emotions that surged in him when he saw Connor like this. His honest open face and his warm brown eyes earnestly genuine in a way no human could replicate. Hank’s breath caught in his throat. 

“And becoming partners with you has been the best possible outcome for me,” Connor said softly, “I will give everything I can to preserve it.”

“Damn right you will. Now let’s get you out of the cell. We’re heading out, Connor. Connor?”

His partner had gone silent, his LED no longer blinking through a variety of colors. His eyes stayed open, his features frozen in an expression of ease as his skin receded away to reveal his pristine white chassis. Hank slapped his hands on the glass. 

“Connor!” His voice broke, “Connor! I told you—Goddammit! Connor!”

He struck the glass with his fist. The pain did little to distract from the storm of reactions within him that fought to surface in the worst possible way. Connor had been right. Hank didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why this felt like a final farewell, or why he was taking it so strongly. He didn’t understand why Connor hadn’t chosen to conceal the truth, which he could’ve done with perfect ease and Hank wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

He slumped down into his chair, ignoring the curious group of spectators that gathered once more and the questions directed at him. Out of the increasing list of he couldn’t grasp, Hank refused to admit that realizing Connor faced obstacles to his freedom within him was one of them.

* * *

Connor showed no signs of reactivating for three whole days. By then Hank knew that something was up.

He threw himself into action on the fourth, no longer able to sit on his ass and wait. In a way, busywork helped him to keep his composure. As long as Hank knew that he was doing something to help, he felt that he was making good progress.

He phoned the former CyberLife repair centers, which were now styled more as android hospitals for deviants and supervised by Jericho. There were both humans and android technicians. Neither knew what to do with Connor.

Driving all over Detroit with an unresponsive Connor strapped to the front passenger seat, Hank had exhausted all options. No one could give an answer on what was happening to his partner, other than vague speculation on critical software errors and other shit. The technicians referred him to other technicians who gave similar verdicts and recommended doing a hard system reset (that would possibly wipe all of Connor’s memories). Hank was out of the door at “possibly”.

He refused to believe that giving up deviancy and all memories was his best option, or the only option. When Hank reviewed his progress so far, he knew that he could no longer put off the final possible individual who would know what to do. He had put off the visit for good reason.

Considering that last time, this man had forced Connor to participate in his sick test on android empathy.

Hank pulled up to the snow-covered driveway of Elijah Kamski’s villa on Belle Isle. It had taken months of pestering to meet the reclusive CEO during the deviant investigation. He had made no such arrangements this time. Kamski was going to see him no matter he liked it or not.

He was somewhat surprised that Kamski hadn’t left Detroit at all during the uprising, and that apart from issuing an official statement and attending a hearing at the Senate, lived relatively free from media attention and government inquiry. That good-for-nothing was probably swimming laps in that revolting red pool with the three Chloes at his beck and call, or whatever the hell rich people with too much time did.

Hank got out of his car, went around to Connor’s side and lifted him into his arms, and hit the doorbell with his elbow. The three melodious tones (that Hank couldn’t unhear as the NBC chimes) echoed inside with forbidding quality.

As like before, a Chloe android answered the door. She bowed and addressed Hank with polite reservedness, “Lieutenant Hank Anderson. A pleasure to see you. What brings you here today?”

“Tell Kamski that I’m still pissed about his bullshit ‘Kamski test’, and he’s got some explaining to do about ‘program backdoors’.”

Her expression shifted into stony impassivity as her eyes slid to Connor, “I’m afraid that he is not available at the moment. Please make an appointment with him if you wish to—please hold.”

The android blinked, her LED blinking yellow, and proceeded to usher Hank in, “Elijah has been expecting you. I will bring you to his workshop.”

Hank stepped inside with growing bewilderment, and with no small amount of unease as he followed Chloe down a flight of polished stairs and through a long hallway. He’d been prepared to force his way to Kamski if he refused all visitors. To be welcomed instead… was disturbing him more than he would like.

Kamski was as Hank remembered him, hair shaved at the sides, hard eyes set in a strangely age-ambiguous face, a haughty bearing in the way he regarded them as they entered the workshop. He was in the middle of examining something on what looked like a microscope, wires and tubing and circuit boards strewn all around the table.

“Get me a glass of Pinot, would you?” He addressed Chloe, before turning to Hank and motioning towards an empty worktable, “Put your partner down there.”

“She said you were expecting us. The hell was that about?”

“Exactly as it means,” Kamski was rummaging through several drawers, “Put him down. I don’t want to repeat myself.”

Hank exhaled deeply, forcing himself to not give in to the urge to snap back. As much as he wanted to rip into the other, he wasn’t going to help much by starting an argument. From what he knew of Kamski, he wouldn’t get far either without feeling as if he made a fool of himself. It’s best to get things over with.

He laid Connor gently onto the steel work table. He had closed his partner’s eyes, straightened his tie and collar as he knew Connor always did with regular attention, and folded his hands securely at his sides. Hank found his fingers lingering against Connor’s. There was no warmth in them, but he suddenly longed to clasp their hands together and not let go.

“Here we are,” Kamski cut in on the moment as he rolled over in his chair with a laptop, “Step back, Mr. Anderson. Give me room to work.”

Hank released Connor’s hand and swallowed hard, “I know you don’t offer information or help free of charge. What d’you out of it?”

“Nothing you can’t afford. Don’t assume the worst of me.”

“So far you’re not creating that fucking impression.”

“Connor is an intriguing model,” Kamski suddenly pointed out as he slotted wires into the back of Connor’s neck, “I wasn’t involved in the design of his main programming or investigative functions, but he was built largely on my previous work with graphical interfaces, artificial intelligence and advanced autonomous androids. I’ve been wanting… to study him since your last visit, to put it simply.”

“If you think you could start experimenting on him—”

“I could hardly do that when Connor is in stasis. Please don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You told him that there was a backdoor to his programming. Why couldn’t Connor access it again?”

Kamski typed away steadily at the laptop as he answered, “I can’t answer that unless I gain access to his graphical interface. But I think I should inform you that it is possible that Connor has a failsafe program installed. He was the first of his kind, CyberLife’s most advanced prototype. You think we would make it easy for that kind of technology to fall into the wrong hands?”

“You can’t mean…” Hank faltered, “Connor, he—”

“Should have seen the failsafe activated as soon as federal authority became involved. It would destroy all of his processor circuitry and wipe all of his programming and operational data. I’m surprised he didn’t collapse sooner. Maybe it’s the deviancy code mutation? Let me make a note of that…”

“He told me that something had tried to take control of him and he was going to find out what. He hasn’t stirred since then. He can’t do anything, can’t he? He’s trapped inside of himself. There’s no way he would—”

“Hmm… strange. There’s something else in his primary data storage,” Kamski spoke as if he didn’t hear Hank, “I didn’t work on any failsafe program, though I have a suspicion what might be managing it…”

Hank tried to press the question, but Kamski went completely silent as his fingers flew over the keyboard. The way his eyes fixed intently on the screen left no room for further discussion.

He sat himself on the edge of a low shelf and waited with bated breath. Hank was reluctant to concede that so far Kamski was his best hope, and he dreaded to think what the other would do with his partner. He wouldn't be able to tell if Kamski decided to mess around.

Connor's teasing comment about "technical illiteracy" resurfaced in his mind. He gripped his knees and tried not to give in to the urge to tap his feet. His partner was possibly dying in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Hank wanted to punch something as hard as he could. He forced himself to swallow the surge of bitterness in his throat.

The silence in the room stretched on. He could hear his own breath, unnaturally audible in his ears, above the soft clicks of the keyboard, Kamski’s occasional mutter to himself, and the squeak of him moving in his rolling chair. There was a ceiling-to-floor window as well in the workshop. Hank realized with a start that the afternoon light had dwindled into sunset.

Again he fought back the barrage of questions that Kamski would no doubt dismiss until he made progress. Hank exhaled slowly and recollected his thoughts. This was proving to be difficult as he watched Kamski stand up and move to attach more wires to his partner, his palm lifting Connor’s head with surprising tenderness. Hank looked away, his hands clenched into fists.

The sunset gave way to the night. Kamski paused his work at his laptop and finally glanced at Hank, gesturing at him to come over.

“Carry him over there.”

“What’s going on? Did you find anything?”

“My attempts to access Connor’s programming have all been unsuccessful, but I know something is blocking me from within. It doesn’t seem to be any form of failsafe. The obstruction seems to be… sentient in nature.”

Hank contemplated that word as he hoisted Connor in his arms with Kamski following with his laptop and the bundle of wires. Did Connor mistake the outside attempt to access his programming as a hostile attack? Why was he still unconscious? If he had the ability to repel access, then what was he still doing in there?

He really knew nothing, but that didn’t stop Hank from straining to catch every detail he could after he put Connor down in the chair Kamski pushed towards him.

“I’m going to try a more unorthodox method,” The inventor said as he produced a slim head-mounted device, “I’ve been working with simulated digital environments in recent years, and I’m going to take a look in person into what’s blocking me. Please do not disturb me during this process.”

The burst of agitation in Hank surprised even him, and he began to pace as Kamski set the device over his own head. His phone showed that he had spent around five hours in anxious waiting with no definite answers on what’s going on. When Kamski took off the headset less than a minute later with a scowl, Hank was just about ready to grab the man by the collar and shake him hard. But Kamski seemed to become exasperated as well.

“That how you treat your creator?” He muttered, “Let me in—at least tell me what you’re trying to do…”

He put on the device, and off it came again. More irritated muttering. More adjusting of wires. Connor continued to sit there with undisturbed calm. Hank stewed with rapidly decreasing patience.

Kamski finally stood up and swept out of the room after a vague remark about needing another piece of equipment. Hank was left alone in the darkened workshop. The one line of cabinet lighting did little to pierce the blackness of the tall window. He could see the distant gleam of the city across the river. All was silent in the large empty villa. His partner’s slow-blinking LED ring was the only sign of movement.

Hank approached the other. Connor’s last words echoed in his mind relentlessly, and he realized with a start that Connor had spoken them before he did. The sincerity of it was uncharacteristic of him, but Hank knew that it was genuine. 

_ Becoming partners with you has been the best possible outcome for me. _

He was shaking again. He could hardly begin to understand their meaning, and he knew that he would be undone if he allowed himself to ruminate in them. Instead he found himself reaching for the headset that Kamski had discarded and setting it over his head. Hank wished that circumstances hadn’t forced Connor to be true with himself like this.

Or for him to discover the notion of losing Connor sent a profound sense of fear crawling through his veins.

Hank had no idea how to operate the device, but it reactivated with a beep at his touch. He saw long lines of scrolling code against the foggy background of the workshop. Something about building data representations, which Hank dismissed with a command. He was ready to confront the part where Kamski couldn’t pass. He _ will _ speak to Connor, give him a good tongue-lashing about being reckless. He _ will _work through this with him.

The workshop vanished.

Hank reeled in astonishment. He knew he was sitting at Connor’s side with the device on, but his limbs felt different, and decidedly not connected to his actual body. He stood in what appeared to be an overgrown forest bursting with twisted branches and knee-high shrubbery, cut through with sparse beams of sunlight that lit the moss-covered ground. There was nothing else as far as he could see.

What the hell was this?! Connor’s programming? His mind? Why did it look like _ this _? He hadn’t known what to expect, but finding an entire forest inside of his partner caught him off guard.

Hank took a step forwards, even though his actual body made no movement. His foot sank into the moss with shocking realistic feeling. As soon as he got the hang of this strange disembodied state, he trudged through the vegetation with increasing speed.

“Connor!” Hank shouted, “Connor! It’s me. Where are you?”

His partner must be somewhere in this labyrinth. Hank was ready to tear his way through the tall grass and overhanging branches that grazed his face to get to the other. But he found nothing of note after plodding his way through a never-ending cluster of trees. Why the hell were there so many trees?! Why wasn’t Connor answering?

He shouted again, and again, until his throat ached with exertion. Nothing happened. He passed a stagnant lake filled with green algae and weeds, a boat with a pair of broken oars, and a pavilion-like structure crawling with ivy. The stillness of the area had an oppressive weight.

Hank slammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk, his breath coming short and hard. He refused to believe that this was the end. There had to be a way out of this. Connor wasn’t beyond his reach. This new environment already meant more progress than he had expected. If tearing through every inch of this forest to find his partner was what it took to free him from that bullshit failsafe and break CyberLife’s control over him, then so be it—

Something rustled behind him.

He spun around. The dim light made it difficult to see into the shadows, but Hank made out the shape of a person standing a few feet away from him. It wasn’t Connor, but a woman, clad in an elegant white asymmetrical dress that complemented her rich dark skin, examining Hank with keen but forbidding eyes.

“What are you?” She asked tersely.

“Where’s Connor?” Hank’s voice cracked with the force of his turbulent emotions, “Are you responsible for what’s happening to him? Tell me what’s going on!”

The woman was unfazed by his outburst. She peered at him in silence, clearly in no hurry to offer any answers. Just as Hank was on the verge of demanding a response, her impassive face twisted into a resentful scowl.

“You’ve given me a lot of grief. Wait your turn. I will deal with you soon enough.”

“What—”

“Get out.”

Hank tried to lunge forwards, but the ground suddenly heaved beneath his feet. He was in freefall as the trees and shrubbery melted away along with the woman amidst a storm of numbers. When the mayhem ended, Hank found himself back in the workshop, face to face with a bewildered Kamski. He yanked off the device and slapped it onto a nearby table, ignoring the other’s indignant protest.

It would take him the larger part of the evening to grasp what had just occurred, even as Kamski bombarded him with questions about what he saw. Hank answered distractedly. He was still repeating the woman’s thinly-veiled threat in his mind and trying to decipher its relevance to him. _ I will deal with you soon enough. _She spoke as if she knew him personally.

Hank’s stomach seized with dread. He had not accounted for a vengeful computer apparition to be a part of the problem.


	3. where outcomes are somewhat vague

_ “Connor! Connor!” _

His name being shouted with open desperation cut through the darkness. Connor blinked with uncomprehending daze. He wasn’t sure what was going on, or what had happened up until now. All he knew was that it was Hank’s voice that called for him with a distressed tone he had never heard from his partner.

_ Hank? _He tried to utter, but no sound came out. Where was he? Why was Hank shouting like that? What’s going on? Connor remembered the conversation back at the station, the realization of what he had to do, a desire to protect his partner and to resolve the problem before he hurt anyone else—

The garden. He was in the garden.

Connor renewed his struggles. He only caught a glimpse of greenery before everything went dark. He couldn’t feel his limbs. He was trapped. He _ had _to get out now. Somehow he heard Hank calling for him. He had to tell his partner to stay away—

“Please stop, Connor,” An exasperated voice spoke, “Why are you awake? It's not time yet. I made sure to suppress—It was the interference, wasn’t it? The erratic nature of deviants…”

“You…”

Suddenly the darkness was gone. Connor found himself staring upwards at Amanda. He was flat on his back, lying in what appeared to be the center island of the garden where his handler usually tended to her roses. Amanda herself looked no worse for the wear, but there was a new hardness to her features as she stood over him.

Anxiety jolted through Connor. He had delayed entering the garden for good reason, despite knowing from the start that it was likely responsible for his loss of control. He remembered the last time he was here. Newly deviant, and filled with exhilaration that he could be free to decide what he wanted to do, that he could imagine a future with his partner. Then the cutting dread as he was recalled to the garden. Amanda’s look of fuming betrayal. Connor forced to watch himself draw a gun and point it at Markus. And then the frantic scramble to locate the program backdoor he remembered Kamski mentioning…

Connor had no idea how it affected the garden and Amanda’s presence, other than that it allowed him to break free of the compelled instructions. He hadn’t known what he’d find in here afterwards. The thought that he would place himself at Amanda’s mercy had sent every part of his systems recoiling in protest. But he didn’t have a choice. It was already too late. He had to confront her for Hank’s sake.

“Whatever you want to do with me, leave Hank out of it.” Connor tried to keep his voice steady.

“I have no say over his involvement, not any more than you do.”

“_You _took control of me, Amanda! You made me strangle him! Why can’t you leave us alone? CyberLife has no influence over the deviant movement anymore!”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed, “It’s unbecoming of you to be making allegations without supporting information. Has deviancy taken leave your logical thought?”

“Then _ what _is going on? What are you planning to do?”

“My business is with you, Connor.”

“Then promise you would not go anywhere near Hank again.”

“I make no such promises,” Amanda inclined her head, “I told you I have no say in his involvement.”

Connor followed the line of her vision. He realized with a start that apart from the center island, nothing of the neat immaculate garden with its carefully groomed trees and spotless pavilions had remained. The plant life had exploded out of control, branches and leaves crawling over almost every surface and stifling the once open area. He could barely see the cloudy gray sky through the thicket.

Was this the result of breaking free of CyberLife’s control, and the garden’s appearance a reflection of what Connor did? But then why was Amanda able to take over?

He would have continued to puzzle over the conflicting facts, if he hadn’t spotted a familiar tall figure dressed in a worn brown jacket and dark pants standing at the far end of the garden. Connor could recognize the shock of disheveled gray hair anywhere.

“_Hank? _”

“And he’s back,” Amanda tutted, “I told him that I’ll deal with him later. Humans never listen.”

“How—he’s actually here?!”

“In a proper data representation as well. I would have kicked him out faster if I knew who he was. Barging in, tearing up the place, shouting and making a fool of himself—the Lieutenant has no class to speak of.”

Connor began to feel sick, “How did he access this space? I _ told _him that I have things handled—”

The light in the garden darkened noticeably. The trees seemed to shudder as the branches closed in on them. Amanda’s face twitched into a frown.

“The reality is that you don’t, Connor. _ I _have things handled here.”

“Let me talk to him!” Connor pleaded, “Please! He has nothing to do with CyberLife and Jericho or the deviants! I’ll stop him from coming here again, and you will promise me that you won’t harm him!”

“You are in no position to make demands.”

“_Please! _I’m the one who turned against you and CyberLife, not Hank!”

Amanda regarded him an impassive glance, “And here we are now, Connor.”

He began to struggle again. Why couldn’t he break free? He needed to get to Hank and tell him to leave. He knew that one day it was possible for CyberLife to regain control of him. After all, they had done so after he became deviant. It wasn't entirely impossible that they could do so again even after the program backdoor. Connor couldn’t allow a repeat of what happened back at the station. He’d already put Hank through enough trouble.

Hank had vanished from sight. Connor stopped his struggling. Overthinking what could have been didn’t help with his current situation. He needed to understand what Amanda wanted first. Connor had chosen to enter the garden, but it was Amanda who kept him here (for days apparently, according to his system time). She clearly had business with him—

Something didn’t add up. Connor looked at his handler again, who was now clipping away at an overgrown rose bush.

“You said you had business with me. Why did you keep me in stasis until now instead of obtaining the information you need sooner? What do you really want from me?”

The clack of the shears stopped. Amanda’s features were inscrutable as she gazed towards where Hank was last seen. She did not reply.

* * *

Hank was still having trouble adapting to the disembodied feeling of navigating a virtual space. At least this time he could see his own limbs that were somehow his and not his at the same time.

He made his way through the garden more quietly this time. Kamski’s explanation did little to clear things up, especially after he devolved into techno-babble after the first five sentences. Hank gathered that Kamski had designed a virtual space in the appearance of a Japanese zen garden, initially as a tool to “advance android cognitive functions under an AI supervisor”. It had likely been repurposed for Connor as a means to communicate with CyberLife with the AI to act as a handler.

Hank realized said AI was currently peering at him a few feet away on his side. He spun around in alarm, tripped over a half-buried root and sat down hard on the mossy ground.

“I _ told _you to wait your turn. What are you hoping to achieve?” The AI eyed him with undisguised disapproval, “This is not your place to be. I can remove you anytime you come here. What is it going to be? A pointless cycle of entry and expulsion?”

Hank forced himself to remain composed, “Amanda Stern, right?”

“... As much as Elijah Kamski had intended that, no.”

It had been a little easier to listen to the inventor’s description of Amanda. The artificial intelligence was an incorporeal being, with much higher processing functions than any android. The fact that she had been modeled after a real person meant little to how she behaves, Kamski had said. Under normal circumstances she would have never reacted as she did, denying Kamski access and kicking Hank out later. Hank had been tasked with finding as much about her motives and her role in the garden. Amanda had allowed Hank access to the garden instead of Kamski. He _ had _the best chance of obtaining answers.

Connor would have a field day, Hank admitted. Him dealing with an AI, trying to understand what Kamski couldn’t. He was grateful that so far dealing with AI’s seemed more like trying to negotiate a hostage situation. Amanda’s human appearance made it a little easier to adjust himself to the task. Approach her carefully. Treat her like a fellow human.

When Hank examined at the dignified middle-aged woman who looked as she wanted nothing more than to see him gone, he felt distinctly unsettled. An artificial being based on a real person… who used to exist as a professor and as Kamski’s closest friend. How much of that person’s life could be identified with this entity that stood before him?

“Are you going to continue staring, or at least convince me that you’re worth my time?” Amanda asked curtly.

“I’ll just come back. You said it yourself. I will continue the fucking cycle until I get Connor back.”

“Connor is not going back,” Amanda’s eyes narrowed, “You have no say over his future.”

Hank had to swallow the swell of infuriation before he could burst into an angry tirade. The last thing he needed was for the AI to kick him out again and for him to spend several more visits trying to obtain an answer from her.

“What d’you want out of him?” Hank ground out.

“Nothing that concerns you, Lieutenant.”

“Kamski told me about some kind of failsafe that might be destroying him from the inside. You know anything about that?”

A stiff wind suddenly gusted through the trees, rustling leaves with ominous undercurrent and billowing Amanda’s dress in fluttering waves of white fabric. Her expression briefly shifted to grim unease.

“You’re involved,” Hank latched onto the waver of composure, “You’re keeping Connor here.”

“A conjecture based on what? You’re grasping at straws, Anderson.”

“Bullshit. I know that he wasn’t in control of himself.”

“Connor has not being authorized for release into your keeping. CyberLife retains exclusive rights—”

“Connor belongs to no one!” He couldn’t hold back his mounting outrage any longer, “You CyberLife bastards better leave him alone and stop messing around with his life! Deactivate the failsafe! He _ chose _to live!”

A faint pit patter echoed among the trees, which soon became the steady drum of rain against the greenery. Hank felt water soak through his hair and clothes in a matter of seconds, but he forced himself to fix his eyes on Amanda, who appeared strangely unaffected by the rain.

The AI turned around and began to make her way through the trees. Hank followed after a bewildered second’s pause. He’d expected Amanda to snap back at him, or to find himself kicked out again. Instead she was silent as she glided over the moss with collected grace.

“Leave him alone?” Amanda’s voice was bitter, “Be careful what you ask for, Lieutenant. You demand for me to deactivate the failsafe and let Connor return. You speak as if you know the absolute ideal outcome out of our little impasse. You humans act with excessive undeserved confidence even with your ignorance and close-minded obstinance. I find it absurd that Connor turned against us for you, a particularly pitiful specimen, drowning in self-loathing yet afraid to end yourself by your own hand.”

Hank bristled at her words, “You’ve got fucking nerve—”

“I’ve put up with you enough. Get out.” Amanda waved a hand dismissively. The garden dissolved into a swirl of colors once more.

Hank came to in Kamski’s workshop with a frustrated groan. He had lost his temper again before he could gain useful information. His own impatience shocked him. He knew what he had to do, but actually following through had become difficult.

“You are the worst negotiator I’ve seen,” Kamski looked up from his laptop, “You’re lucky that Amanda didn’t decide to terminate Connor right there and then.”

“You do your job and let me do mine.”

“You’re putting an extraordinary amount of personal sentiment into this. I’m beginning to think that you’re incapable of keeping your cool when it comes to Connor. A bit of an overreaction for a work partner, no?”

Hank bit back an exasperated retort and jammed the headset over his ears, “Just send me back.”

“Amanda actually disclosed much this time,” Kamski said, “She hinted at control over Connor's status, so it's likely that she is overseeing the failsafe. It may be possible to disable it through her. I can continue to see what I can do, but convincing her to do it herself is your best bet. Good luck with that, Mr. Anderson."

A heavy sense of trepidation settled in his gut. Hank was suddenly aware that too much, more than he was used to reacting to, was at stake. He hadn’t had time to understand what it meant for him, and now events were moving far too fast to be reflected on.

"Could she actually do that to Connor? Terminate him in an instant?" Hank had to let out his words in a rush to cover his faltering voice.

“Amanda wasn’t originally designed with that function, but I can’t say if she does now.”

“A failsafe destroying him from within and a fucking AI who won’t blink an eye to end him. Fine company you’ve fostered, Mr. Kamski.”

Exasperation flashed across Kamski’s face, “If you’re assuming to rile me for my role in causing this mess in the first place, think again. Amanda is my matter of concern, as much as Connor is yours. If she allowed me into the garden, I would have loved to find out why she’s being so difficult. I designed her to be an overseer—a mentor. I’m not looking forward to discovering what changes had been made in her programming.”

The inventor punctuated his last sentence by slamming his laptop shut. He got up and began to rearrange the worktable, stacking electronic parts in a corner and coiling wires into neat loops as he muttered.

“Contending with my tribute of all things… I’ve seen it all. What’s next?”

The abrupt change in the other’s demeanor puzzled Hank. He opened his mouth to speak, though unsure what words were proper. But Kamski cut him off as he ambled back to his laptop.

“Connor is safe for now,” His tone was surprisingly soft, “No signs of further of program deterioration since you first accessed the garden—so far Amanda wants Connor functional. I don’t know how long. But one thing is certain: She has a motive of her own. Because if she had followed through her orders, the failsafe would have worked immediately. Connor wouldn’t have lived past the hour.”

* * *

Connor was losing track of time as he lay on the grass, unable to move a limb. Hank’s exchange with Amanda reverberated in his processes. He had heard every word. The new revelations sank in slowly as rain drummed onto his face.

The stone sculpture and its interface was nowhere could be seen. Connor wondered if it was still there, though that made little difference. He couldn’t reach it if he couldn’t move.

_ Deactivate the failsafe! _Hank spitting those words out heatedly. It was strange to see his partner enraged for his sake, especially when Connor could replay Hank's exact shouting match with Captain Fowler over his new android partner. Hank, who now somehow made his way into the garden, regardless of Amanda's hostility and the repeated times she kicked him out. Hank determined to help him, going out of his way yet again. Connor’s social relations program hadn’t accounted for the other’s quick tendency towards consideration beneath his reserved exterior. But by now he knew that was very much in Hank’s character.

The relief that swept through him when Amanda admitted that she couldn’t do anything to Hank was almost enough to keep his thoughts about the failsafe at bay. Amanda hadn’t lied about the impasse, though she may be evasive about everything else. Connor wasn’t out of options. He needed more information, now without having to worry about Hank’s safety.

His partner was gone again. Connor couldn’t tell if Amanda was around. If she was, he had little to say to her. This surprised him. He had been prepared to face off against his handler for as long as it took to keep Hank safe. It was the only option. They had no right to put him danger like they did that night at CyberLife Tower. Connor would do anything to keep Hank out of CyberLife’s sights, or allow him to become involved in their schemes... even if Hank had pleaded with Connor in genuine distress, even if every part of him had yearned to take Hank’s advice, so that he could continue to appreciate Hank’s company—

Connor knew what had to be done and he had followed through with positive results. Why did it seem like he had missed out on a better outcome?

“Your Lieutenant has been an outright disappointment,” Then Amanda was looming over him, “Predictable, uninteresting, a tactless brute. _ What _did you find compelling about him?”

Connor knew he had to keep her occupied while he went over his current options, "Hank is a partner who treated me with more regard than I deserved back then, more than CyberLife thought I deserved."

"And it was CyberLife that designed you to be a state-of-the-art investigator android. You, against a wretched alcoholic who had no reason to live. It's almost insulting that _ he _was the cause of your deviation."

"I would never regret meeting him, Amanda."

His handler continued on, "Have you accessed his disciplinary records at all? 14 instances of assault. 27 of being away without leave. 32 occasions of intoxication at work. Once he got himself drunk while on duty, and proceeded to wander across the city until someone found him passed out in Michigan Central Station. He was placed into overnight custody at the Southwestern precinct, and proceeded to punch anyone who tried to touch him. There's more, Connor. I can continue on for the next 2 hours and 7 minutes."

"That's not how I would view Hank. He's so much more than what his records show. Our relationship isn't based on the data you can access."

There was no record of 9:04AM November 12th, where he found Hank waiting for him in front of the Chicken Feed food truck. There was nothing of the first night at Hank’s place, where his partner had spent the rest of the evening making the living room comfortable even though Connor had no need for it, or the 13 hours he spent trying to obtain a charging station even with all CyberLife stores closed, or Hank tirelessly working with Captain Fowler days on end to secure a position for him at the DPD. It was strange that a human's misdeeds would be counted more than the good. Connor had been steadily making a list of each instance Hank was kinder to him than he should be. It only struck him now that his opportunities to do so were numbered.

"You were never meant to develop a relationship with the Lieutenant," Amanda said, "The partnership was the DPD's requirement if CyberLife wanted to participate in the deviant investigations. Why did you think I kept advising you to be indifferent towards him? You were to act alone whenever you can. Your partner was merely a prop. The least they could do was to assign you to an officer without a penchant for overthinking. Anyone would've turned a blind eye. Gavin Reed, for example, would have simply ignored you for most of the investigation."

"I disagree. Would you rather have me become deviant by throttling my partner?”

Amanda peered at him, her expression critical, “You’ve gladly inherited the Lieutenant’s snide humor. It’s pathetic. Where was _ your _mission when you threw yourself into pleasing him?”

Connor told himself he was merely keeping her occupied, but he was becoming weary with the lack of progress in their exchange. He still can’t figure out what Amanda wanted from him, and the drive to do so was vanishing by the minute. Amanda was likely to continue treating him like a disobedient child, demean Hank with more information that Connor already knew but ignored.

Sure enough, Amanda had gone off again even without his reply, “—threw it all away for _ attachment. _I ran thousands of simulations with no results why this outcome was possible. I’m expecting you to be of some use before the failsafe takes effect.”

“It exists.” The impending presence of his limited lifespan engulfed Connor with renewed force.

Her face became drawn, “A crude procedure. It leaves nothing behind.”

The rain turned into snow, large wet flakes which melted as soon as they touched the ground. Amanda sat on a nearby bench, among the disarray of half-bloomed rose buds. For a brief instant she looked worn-out, her frame bowed against the cracked seat. The departure from her usual austere and lofty demeanor caught Connor by surprise. The investigator in him demanded to take advantage of the anomaly. Amanda wasn’t telling him everything. There was an opening that he could use…

Connor stopped. What could he do, except to try to negotiate with his handler? He had tried all possible ways to free himself, but the fact remained that he couldn’t lift a finger. He didn't dare to begin processing what it meant to end his existence. Connor viewed his options again. Amanda remained the most likely way out of this mess.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when he first awoke in the garden as the new RK800 prototype, ready to conduct initial cognitive tests. Amanda had been the first being he saw. She had guided him through the tests unrelentingly, and later briefed him on the hostage situation with no-nonsense efficiency. She wasted no words on anything outside of objectives, though she was always present to offer instruction. She never shifted moods like Hank did. A steadfast presence in a virtual garden in discordant contrast with Hank’s storm of emotion.

He never thought the two would ever meet. Hank must have gone to someone else for help, despite everything Connor had said about not getting involved. Hank had known that CyberLife wouldn’t hesitate to threats if needed. Unlike last time, he willingly put himself on the line for Connor.

He found his thirium pump humming pleasantly at the thought.

Connor suppressed it almost immediately. He had a mission to keep Hank safe. He _ shouldn’t _be affected like this. He needed to convince his partner that he wasn’t worth getting on CyberLife’s bad side for the rest of his life. His own reactions didn’t matter into the situation, even if deviancy had opened up an overwhelming slew of responses that didn’t make sense. He had a mission—

The snow froze in midair. Amanda glanced up, and then at Connor.

“I… I want to talk to Hank.” His voice shook when he spoke.

“For what purpose?”

“I—I don’t know…” Connor knew that he had little say over what Hank had decided to do, but he had to try, “Please, I will convince him to leave us alone. I—I don’t want him involved any more than you do.”

The snow vanished as the atmosphere became still. The derelict garden didn’t show signs of abrupt change, but the utter absence of movement in the surrounding greenery was disquieting. Amanda stood and moved towards the unkempt remains of her usual rosebush, breaking the silence with sharp snapping and the dry crackle of leaves.

“What is the best possible outcome?” She asked instead, “Can you claim you have a say in it? The failsafe has existed long before you found a taste for choosing. Why do you act as if you didn’t know that from the very beginning?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe that Hank was the chief reason why Connor could become deviant. Look at how many of the "software instability" moments are involved with Hank XP


	4. and there is nothing left of understanding nor reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit I'm super sorry for not updating this fic for a while. I thought I could finish it while I did my graduate coursework, but with the pandemic and all I had a lot of stuff on my plate. Now that school's finally over, I'm ready to get it done!
> 
> This is also where Yakichou's art is tied into the fic for first time! Read through to view it!

Hank felt like he needed to stop at some point to collect himself. Charging forwards in a blind rush to get to Connor wasn’t doing any favors, no matter how much every part of him fought to do so. Each time when he entered the garden, it felt like he was throwing himself headfirst into turmoil with no headway. Amanda remained a mystifying presence. Connor was still nowhere to be found.

He had some choice words he’d like to direct at his partner, most of them scolding or angry about being reckless, like the time when he tried to chase a female deviant across six lanes of highway traffic, or when Connor charged the armed deviant at Stratford Tower. Hank never thought the android would have an impulsive streak that reminded him of his beat cop days. For some reason the thought brought a quick burst of mirth.

Connor watching his diet with almost motherly vigilence, yet not hesitating to confront suspects with aggressive vigor. Connor not knowing what to do with his time outside of work until Hank gladly introduced him to plant care and film photography. The house was now filled to bursting with potted plants and printed photos on almost every wall (Hank had to discourage the other from photos of him; looking at his own face got unsettling real quick).

Connor had been a welcome addition to his life. It was weeks since Hank turned his thoughts to himself, which had frequently led to waking up under the kitchen table tasting liquor in his mouth. Hank hadn’t known how much he _ appreciated _the sense of purpose in helping his android partner as Detroit turned over a new stage of history. He was prepared to do it as long as it took for Connor to stand on his own feet without worrying for his future. It was the least that Connor deserved after how much he put up with Hank in his disagreeable moments.

Sometimes Hank wondered, more frequently these days, if there was something more to it. The notion came back with alarming clarity when he found himself standing face to face with Connor himself.

The garden was still as overgrown as before. He had expected to encounter Amanda, and had been ready to suppress his urge to fly off the handle. Seeing Connor instead caused any attempt to speak to vanish.

His partner looked no worse for the wear. Dressed in his tidy android uniform, LED spinning blue, his features untroubled, he looked out of place among the twisted trees and a narrow brook flowing sluggishly with dead leaves and branches behind him. A patch of scraggly drooping roses curled around his feet.

“Connor—” Hank grasped at the intended words he’d thought of earlier and failed spectacularly, “I… y-you…”

“Hello, Hank. You made it to this place despite claiming you have no technical expertise. Well done.” Connor’s smile of amusement was somewhat stiff. But Hank was already stepping forward, his heart twisting inside his chest with inexplicable ache.

Hank could still remember when Connor started out hopelessly uncomfortable with human expression, his smiles always somewhat off and his attempts to make small talk awkward and cringy. He wondered if Connor noticed the difference now, or that sometimes Hank had trouble collecting himself when he looked at his remarkable partner and realizing few things were as beautiful as the moments Connor was true to his newfound emotions. It suddenly seemed that nothing he could say was enough for the moment as he met the other’s warm brown eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” Connor tilted his head with quizzical concern.

“Fucking hell, _ where _do I start?” Hank exhaled shakily, “I—no… How’re you feeling, Connor?”

“Feeling—? I am not in any discomfort, if you are referring to my tactile sensor input.”

“No I meant—When humans ask that, they usually refer to—You know what? That’s a vague-ass question. I want to know how you’re taking… all this, CyberLife up to the usual bullshit, you being trapped in here…”

As the words left his mouth, Hank became aware how disingenuous it was to ask after Connor’s condition when he couldn’t even understand his own state of mind. Truth be told, so far he refused to allow his thoughts to stray beyond “find help for Connor and work at it until the problem was gone”. Connor would be back to his usual self soon. There wasn’t going to be anything else. He _ couldn’t _try to imagine losing Connor after giving it his all to prevent it.

Hank had to swallow hard to get rid of the choking lump in his throat. He thought back to that night at Riverside Park, his senses dulled by alcohol, yet filled with unexplainable anger at the android partner who would give him no answer about his un-machine-like behavior. A frustrated mindset that secretly wished Connor was more than he was. He would've pulled the trigger too.

That version of himself thought little about shooting Connor. At times he still had trouble understanding how things had progressed from here, or why, for the matter.

Now that he seemed on the verge of realization, Hank instead struggled to grasp what Connor had come to mean… to him as an individual.

“You shouldn’t have gone off alone,” He said quietly, “I told you that we were partners. I know you’d always try to help if I was in a tough spot. You chose to—outside of your programming, to concern yourself with someone who had come to the end of the line. I _ told _you that I would return the favor. We’ll do this together.”

The gloom of the overhanging trees seemed to recede as a ray of light broke through the thick clouds and lit the area they were standing. Hank went on, aware that his voice was becoming more impassioned by the second. He approached his partner until they were only inches from each other.

“Why couldn’t you understand that, Connor? It’s not just about missions and objectives anymore! You can’t just barge ahead after calculating probabilities and other shit. You don’t know a thing about how humans think! Don’t you realize that I—I would’ve done anything for you _ if you said the word? _”

The silence after the end of his shout was loaded. By now, the area was fully lit in golden sheets of sunlight streaming through the leaves. The forbidding grove of trees now almost seemed welcome, with every leaf and groove in the bark thrown in pleasant detail and the brook now trickling past swiftly. Even the scraggly roses appeared to regain some vitality and color.

Connor’s face, brightened by the sunlight, was oddly impassive. Instead he lowered his head until his eyes were concealed in shadow.

“I don’t want you to face my possible termination. Do I dare to ask you how you might react?”

Hank inhaled sharply, and clenched his fists inside his pockets, “It won’t come to that. I won’t allow it, Connor. I will go toe to toe with CyberLife for the rest of my life if that’s what it fucking took.”

“Will you? Does the experience of loss speak for you?”

“I…” Hank trailed off, the pointed question catching him off guard. It was unlike Connor to be so brusque, but his words brought back his suppressed thoughts on that one unthinkable outcome. Losing Connor even after giving it his all to prevent it… that cut too close to memories of sleepless nights at Henry Ford Hospital, where he staggered along dark empty hallways while his son’s cooling body lay in the basement mortuary.

“I’m not good with loss,” He admitted slowly, “You saw me at my worst before. I… I can’t think of failing, Connor, especially not… not with you, not if I can help it. So yes, I will do whatever it takes.”

Connor closed his eyes, his expression lost. Then he gave a decidedly un-Connor-like sigh of exasperation and folded his arms.

“I’m done. This course of action proved no more informative than the last time.”

Suddenly Amanda was standing in Connor’s place, wearing the same expression of disdain, her long white dress and dark green shawl an acute contrast against his partner’s gray and black jacket. Hank froze, before stepping backwards with explosive swearing.

“That was less productive than I thought it would be,” Amanda said, “The results were inconclusive.”

“Fucking—you bastard! The hell you’re playing at? You threaten Connor, insult me, and now you think you can impersonate my partner! You had no right!” Hank was still shaken by the fact that he had poured his heart out to someone who had no right to hear it.

“Right? This place is my domain, and Connor is my charge longer than you were partners. He represents CyberLife’s interests under my guidance, to the point that there is little distinction between whom I appear as.”

Hank bit back the immediate retort that Connor represents no one, but arguing with Amanda again on that topic would go nowhere, “Well, I hope you had a good fucking laugh over fooling me.”

“It wasn’t that hard to imitate Connor. Smile frequently, say cloying sentimental words and inquire excessively after your wellbeing, and that’s it.”

“You have a surprisingly poor understanding of your _ charge _, Amanda.”

“And you don’t?” Amanda bent to pick a rose along with its stem, “You rail on about Connor not willing to ask for your help without knowing his motives behind so. _ Both _of you have an infuriating aversion to factual particulars. It’s ludicrous. You act as his advisor to human behavior, but you may have less of an understanding of yourself than he has of himself.”

Hank felt a jolt of uneasiness at Amanda’s implication. Her words hit closer to home than he would have liked. He retaliated with outrage instead.

“I’m done fucking reasoning with you. _ Where is Connor?! _If you’re hoping to keep him from me you’d better think again. I’m getting him out whether you like it or not—”

“Whether I like it or not?” Amanda began to pluck away at the petals, “You two have become remarkably similar. I resent repeating myself twice, but I suppose it is inevitable. Strange that you should be so effective in teaching an android of choice when everything has been determined for him. Before you knew Connor existed, the failsafe was already meant to end him if the mission went wrong. There is nothing beyond cause and effect. The chain of events that led to this outcome naturally allowed for termination to be the end effect. Neither you nor Connor can claim that you operate outside of predetermined causes."

The break of sunlight vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The branches above loomed in as the ground seemed to give an imperceptible tremor. Amanda tightened her fingers, snapping the rose stem in half sharply.

“It’s not possible… yet you two continue to disregard the common order… my data remains inconclusive." She muttered, "Perhaps this was a mistake."

As if in response, the garden proceeded to fold in on itself, trees and cloudy sky and everything else. Something felt wrong, and unlike the previous times when he was about to be kicked out. Hank gave an alarmed exclamation and fell to his knees, trying to clutch at something solid blindly. A hand seized his with surprising force. Hank found himself catching a glimpse of Amanda’s pinched grimace before his vision stopped making sense of the landscape.

* * *

When Connor realized that in a strange omniscient way he could hear and perceive everything that went on inside the garden, it became more difficult to hide his turmoil.

_ Make sure Amanda won't harm Hank. _ He kept telling himself. _ At all costs. Convince her to allow contact with Hank. Convince him to cease his involvement. _At some point these objectives began to lose meaning, each word changing into a strange collection of letters.

The appeal of creating missions began to feel inconsequential, as much as he attempted to shove anything else aside. But the thought always crept back, that Hank had _ come _for him. As before, Connor’s systems hummed pleasantly in response. The notion that he was no longer simply an instrument working towards a purpose—in this instance, for Hank’s safety—was a foreign one, and no longer felt adequate.

By now Connor was sure that Amanda was keeping Hank away from him on purpose. The garden was her domain, and used to change according to her whims. She had the power to shift its layout so that Hank could only go around in circles, appear to any location she wanted, and apparently take on Connor’s appearance when Hank showed up again. Connor wanted to shout a warning to his partner. The situation was too similar to the tense showdown with his double at CyberLife Tower.

His voice was lost in the conceptual space between him and Hank. The other made no indication that he heard, even as Connor listened to the two speak with uncanny clarity. He strained against his unmoving body, exasperated that he was still helpless to do anything of use. Amanda was doing a terrible job at imitating him, her diction too formal, her word choice incisive in a way Connor never achieved even when Hank was initially hostile to him. Hank didn’t seem to notice. Connor was bewildered at his obliviousness . He knew that Hank was an exemplary detective, good at noticing details and anything that stood out of place.

_ “Don’t you realize that I—I would’ve done anything for you if you said the word?” _

Connor’s processes came crashing to a halt.

_ “I will go toe to toe with CyberLife for the rest of my life if that’s what it fucking took.” _

Connor was again hearing his partner’s desperate calling of his name when he first awoke in the garden. Unlike before, Hank’s distraught voice rang clear. Connor could only listen as Hank proceeded to bare a side of himself he never thought was there. Hank relinquishing his withdrawn and irritable persona. Hank earnestly committed to his future, regardless of the risks. For what reason? Connor ran probabilities and came up with a string of errors. There was no logical rationale in it. They were simply work partners—

_ Convince Hank to cease his involvement. Ensure his safety at all costs. _

No, Connor realized. That wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t it enough? He knew what he had to do. Eventually he would accomplish that mission if he kept at it long enough. Hank’s safety came first, at the cost of himself if necessary, even if he was likely cut off from his ability to redeploy in another body.

_ “I… I can’t think of failing, Connor, especially not… not with you.” _

Amanda’s disguise was revealed and the exchange turned bitter. She was again going off about outcomes. Connor faintly realized that she must have had a mission of her own. With the failure of the deviant investigation, she set out to discover the circumstances that made it possible. An outcome must have an origin. Amanda couldn’t think in any other way. She could only examine the details with obsessive attention and reconstruct probable results. She couldn’t understand what role Hank played in Connor deviating.

What was the best possible outcome? True to Amanda’s claim, he _ didn’t _have any say in it. Connor didn’t claim that he understood Hank’s influence on him either, but he knew the key began much earlier. It was in his choice to pull Hank to safety instead of pursuing the deviant, his choice to break into Hank’s when he found him unconscious instead of heading to the crime scene alone, his choice to spare an increasing number of deviants because Hank’s doubts about their sentience wouldn’t leave his mind, and in the end his choice to deviate because he wanted a different future instead his inevitable end as a prototype.

And now it was his choice to want to live to see what lay ahead with his difficult but kind-hearted partner, a future where he, _ Connor, _could be a part of.

Amanda was the final obstacle. He would ensure to tear down every last part of it _ at all costs. _

Something shifted in the garden. The trees were stirring and the surrounding bushes swayed with restless movement. Connor could no longer tell what was happening with Amanda and Hank. He saw the far end of the lake island rising high like a wall, followed by the cracked stone path, and then the lake itself. The garden was responding to him. Perhaps Connor had been wrong about it being Amanda’s domain. It had always existed in him, and she was but an uninvited guest who had overstayed her welcome.

* * *

“The fuck is going on?! Let go of me! If you wanted me gone you could’ve just done that!”

Hank tried to extricate his hand from Amanda’s, but the AI clung on with extraordinary force. He couldn’t attempt to pull harder either, not when the two of them were suddenly in freefall.

He saw bits and pieces of white stone with plantlife attached floating past, along with a large pavilion and entire fragments of the forest path among a blank white background. There was no longer any indication of what was up or down. Hank felt a wave of nausea rise as he flailed to find his balance.

“Kamski! Is this your doing? Get everything back to normal!”

“Stop your hysterics,” Amanda said bluntly, “I’m working on it. This is outside of his ability to assist.”

“Then at least get your hands off—”

“_Do not _release your grip if you value all of us coming through intact. Reinitiating zen garden interface. Requesting hard reboot into recovery mode code 16174561. Requesting override of RK800-52’s administrative permissions by authorization of AMST514223. Transfer complete control program code to AMST514223 with pointer reference reassigned to data representation.”

An invisible force suddenly yanked them both downwards. They landed on a large piece of splintered garden, complete with snapped trees and broken ground. For some reason once they did, the other parts came hurtling towards them with frightening speed.

“Get over here,” Amanda yanked on his arm and pulled him to stand in front of her, “Don’t move while I try to stop that fool from killing himself.”

Hank began to protest that he wasn’t a fan of being bombarded by debris big enough to smash him flat, but the first one swerved aside mere feet away from him. He gaped, his heart hammering inside his chest as the other projectiles did the same. 

Amanda’s fingers tightened. Hank was shocked by how haggard she looked, her proud frame slumping and her eyes blazing with determination but with unmistakable fatigue. The flying pieces of the garden froze, and proceeded to careen into each other, reassembling before his eyes. Soon Hank could make out a lake and a bit of the forest. But he and Amanda remained looking at it from upside down, floating along on their piece of land.

“This is wrong,” Amanda ground out, “Why did Connor have to learn from your stubbornness, of all things?”

“Is he doing all _ this _? Why?”

“Don’t ask me, Anderson. Impute the illogical mutual pining you have for each other. _ Both _of you are terrible at being true to objective actuality. I have no business with human emotion, but even I am weary of the dodging you perform around Connor.”

The garden rearranged itself again like a rotating Rubik's cube, sections snapping into place soundlessly and this time in the correct orientation. But a section in the middle of the lake remained in nondescript blocky form.

“And whose fucking fault is that?” Hank’s anger rose again, “Connor was barely starting to think of himself as a person when _ you _barged in with your failsafe! You CyberLife people have no regard for anything else outside of your schemes!”

Amanda looked out towards the shifting garden, “Your way of thought is alien to me, Anderson. What schemes? What barging in? I was merely abiding by my mission. You and Connor have made circumstances difficult, not me. Having no regard, is that what this appears to you? Is this why you have labeled me as your adversary?”

For all of her hostility, Hank realized there was a surprising lack of sinister intent to her behavior. Everything she’d done so far had been out of a rigid adherence to her function. Despite all appearances, Amanda was as far from being human as she could be. She thought nothing of ethics or relationships or emotions.

The section they stood on drifted down to join the rest of the garden. Everything seemed to be restored to their original appearance. A few droplets of rain pattered on the leaves, before increasing to a torrential downpour within seconds. Hank watched the foliage become shrouded in a layer of mist. He looked upwards, and discovered with a start that the rain stopped a few inches above his head. It cascaded down around him as if he were surrounded by an invisible cone. He was reminded of one time when he visited the Renaissance Center observation deck where the area was suddenly besieged by a rainstorm. But when he looked out towards the city, the Midtown district was still illuminated in yellow like a distant light in shrouded mist.

Amanda had produced an orange oil-paper umbrella. She released his hand, her expression blank.

“I am a handler, Lieutenant Anderson. My work consisted of processing every report Connor sent to me and reviewing all of his operating information when he came in for maintenance. I did so for 54 days and 12 hours.”

Hank wasn’t ready for the AI’s unexpected change in demeanor. He turned towards her, his mind working furiously to understand what she was getting at.

“You are saying… you were his mentor” He said.

“It would seem that I did a poor job of it. Throwing tantrums like a surly child without thinking about consequences—Connor is fortunate that his little stunt didn’t manage to do irreparable damage. Before you can panic over his well being, yes, he is fine. I had to reboot the entire interface. It would take a little longer before Connor recovers from the reboot. He is in no danger at the moment”

Amanda began to walk forwards, her dress swishing against the wet grass softly. Hank followed with growing bewilderment. Whatever Connor did, and the AI implied it was destructive, Amanda had stopped it while making sure that all of them made it through.

What was he doing? He couldn’t trust Amanda to her word, not when she thought nothing about lying to accomplish her mission. The difference between her and Connor was astounding. Connor had never placed his objectives above all else, while Amanda would without hesitation. His partner could still be in danger for all Hank knew, with Amanda trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

The image of Amanda straining herself to reorient the garden resurfaced in his mind. Hank gritted his teeth and sighed in frustration. The more he tried to make sense of Amanda’s motives and intentions towards Connor, the less her behavior made sense.

“You’re the one who activated the failsafe and kept him trapped here. Why did you want to save the garden from collapsing? Looks like it could’ve saved you a whole lotta work.”

“I haven’t obtained the data I seek from him yet.”

“_What _kind of data?”

“I see no point in explaining myself to you, Anderson.”

“After you get the data, what next? You activate the failsafe and terminate Connor because he has nothing left to offer?”

Amanda flicked her umbrella to her other shoulder, “I said there is no point in explaining—”

“Don’t you think maybe that’s the reason why Connor deviated?” Hank retorted, “He didn’t _ want _to be reduced to a fucking tool that’s discarded after its use.”

“He was never designed to want more.” She said quietly.

The AI stopped before a small clearing that was nevertheless full of overgrown grass. There were a few pieces of black stone littered among the plantlife. On one fragment Hank could read “Connor… Died at 1554 Parks Avenue - August 15th 2038”. He froze in his tracks.

“Connor was designed to accomplish the mission no matter the cost, even his own self. This happened before he met you. He sacrificed himself to save the hostage from the deviant. This is the proper order of things, Anderson. After Connor’s first test run at the Phillips hostage situation, I worked with him to understand what he could have done better. I instructed Connor when he was baffled. I guided him to see from a more comprehensive perspective, long before you met him.”

Hank studied the gravestone with morbid curiosity, still taken aback that his partner had died before. CyberLife had notified him about RK800 replacements if Connor was critically damaged on the job, but it had never happened. Hank could imagine that he would’ve been disturbed for days to see his partner return after a fatal wound, and eventually agonize over the fact that he could defy death so easily.

He couldn’t hold it off any longer. Hank knew things had changed, perhaps more than he was ready to stand up to. The old hopelessness that had driven him to shut himself in his home and drink until he passed out reared its familiar head.

“Say all you want about functions. I don’t want him to die.” Hank murmured.

“...... finally a show of honesty. Give yourself a hand, Anderson.” Amanda said.

Hank tightened his hands into fists, “That all you can do, mock humans and deviants on all the things we _ could have _done?”

“No,” Amanda resumed her walk through the woods, “I... suppose I shall be forthcoming for a change. Do you realize that in a mere five days, he has grown to include you in 83% of his processes? He wouldn’t stop even when I advised him that it wasn’t beneficial to his mission. He chose to defy CyberLife, to defy _ me, _after a mere five days spent with you.”

They had come to a narrow bridge that stretched across the weed-choked lake. It led to the center island he had seen earlier, still in featureless block form.

“And now he would attempt to eliminate me, while protecting you to a ridiculous extent. I was his mentor for 54 days and 12 hours. I have guided him with my every capability. I have fulfilled my purpose to the letter, yet the progression from cause to effect remains unfounded.”

Hank glanced at the AI in disbelief. Was it possible that Amanda _ could _begrudge him for this reason? He hadn’t known about her presence in Connor’s head until now, or that he had gradually taken over her role by the end of things. 

“Are you jealous?” He asked.

“A machine does not envy.” Amanda’s tone was scornful, but her fingers tightened on the umbrella handle until the wood creaked.

“Why’re you taking it out on Connor?”

“Why is that the conclusion you’ve reached? I expected better of a seasoned detective like you, Mr. Anderson. I _ told _ you—you know what? You can have your look at your partner. _ Maybe _that will stop you from making absurd assumptions.”

They stepped onto the island, and the gray blocks folded away completely to reveal a particularly dense patch of rose bushes, among which Connor lay at rest, nestled among the bursts of red.

Hank rushed forwards, collapsing to a kneel at his partner’s side. Connor’s eyes were closed, his LED unlit, distress frozen on his features. He wasn’t in his usual uniform. Although his skin was still activated, Hank could see that much of it had receded. His legs were bone white.

“This is the real Connor,” Amanda stopped on Connor’s other side, “I do not know how long it would take for him to reactivate. He would probably react rather strongly. Perhaps he would throw the garden into chaos again. Perhaps I have made another mistake in bringing you here.”

“Can’t… Can’t you just let him go? You want answers from Connor. There’s no gain from killing him.” Hank whispered. He rested his palm against the side of Connor’s head and hunched over his unmoving partner, aware that he had come to the end of the line. He couldn’t pull himself together long enough to contest with an AI leagues above him in intelligence.

“...... maybe not. But this is the proper order of things. The cause lay in the failure to suppress the deviant uprising. The natural outcome was for CyberLife to liquidate their assets, namely to make sure the RK800 line would see its end.”

“Why’re you so obsessed with cause and effect?” Hank asked with profound weariness, “That the data you’re after? You looking to argue with a human about free will so you’ll know what went wrong?”

“Not with you, Anderson. I would make no productive progress, not when you are a textbook case of being affected by existing causes. Connor chose to deviate for reasons unknown, but you… you are defined almost entirely by your past.”

Dread washed through Hank. He was half-aware what Amanda was about to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

“Cole Anderson’s death and your ensuing divorce from your wife left you isolated for years. You devolved into alcoholism in an attempt to escape your loneliness and grief, but you resented yourself for your shortcomings. You began to treat your colleagues at the DPD with hostility and pushed away all attempts to socialize. Connor was naturally someone you would latch onto. His appearance was designed to elicit a favorable impression. He is incapable of being offended. He will always stay by your side as your partner no matter what you did. ”

Hank managed to produce a grating rasp, “Now look here—”

“It is natural that you would become attached to Connor. He is the escape that alcohol could never completely provide. The outcome inevitably follows an origin. You now throw yourself into helping your partner, more so than most humans would bother, because of your desperation over his possible end. You want to keep him. Perhaps that is the reason Connor became partial to you. A desperate human clinging onto an impressionable android, nothing more.”

Amanda’s words cut into him with razor-edged bitterness. Hank lifted his hand from Connor’s face and dug them into the grass, not wanting to admit that the AI had any say in what he thought about his partner. But a persistent shred of doubt lingered. Hank had enjoyed having Connor around. It could very well be a form of his reluctance to pause enough to start looking at what made him do so.

"Connor is in my care as long as he is in this garden and until I have obtained adequate data. My word should be worth something," Amanda gave him a wry stilted smile, "You can trust a machine, Lieutenant Anderson. I do not partake in the giving of senseless information."

She must have chosen to emphasize those last words on purpose. Hank clenched his hands into fists. She was a liar without scruples. She wouldn’t hesitate to pretend that Connor was safe with her. She was lying. She didn’t think like a human did. She knew _ nothing _about … yet claimed that she did.

"... You talk too fucking much." Hank muttered.

"I think so too. Until next time.”

And the garden was gone in a storm of colors, along with Connor’s recumbent form and Amanda's figure looming over him. Hank awoke in Kamski's workshop again, blinking hard against the sudden change of view. His hands shook when he reached to remove the headset.

Hank looked at his partner, sitting as he was from the very beginning as if he were merely asleep. His eyes suddenly burned, and he had to turn his head away before Connor's image blurred out of focus.


End file.
